


Little Humming Birds

by thelastbarricade



Category: Hemlock Grove, Hemlock Grove (Netflix)
Genre: Childhood Friends, In which Peter and Roman have been snarky since like year one okay, Kid!Roman, M/M, kid!Peter, kid!Romancek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastbarricade/pseuds/thelastbarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six year old Roman meets an unfamiliar face at recess one day beneath the snow and wintry wind and entangled metal of the jungle gym:<br/>the new kid in town--Peter Rumancek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Humming Birds

**Author's Note:**

> fluffy mcfluff fluff. <3  
> I love the idea of kid!Roman and Peter, okay?

Roman clambered his way into the jungle gym, eyes already hardened in a cold questioning even at the tender age of six.

He sniffled a bit in the crisp winter air, cheeks and pouted lips reddened by his rushing blood, skin pale and snowy. The little Godfrey heir was adorned in a slender fitting winter coat Olivia had insisted on and a pair of winter boots that hugged his tiny body.

He moved bare fingers over the cold metal in a aimless searching fashion, eyes raised up to the dome of thick metal encasing him like a writhing wire sculpture.  
The other children moved around him in the sandboxes or on the snow covered structures of plastic and metal, watching eyes having known of Roman since before he stepped into view it seemed.  
The recent suicide of his father had not gone unnoticed, nor had the half orphaning of Roman and his infant talked-about-yet-never-seen sister, Shelley. And their mother, the all seeing heiress and sole Godfrey proprieter, Olivia Godfrey.

Before Roman could even speak he'd been outcasted.  
Even in his early years, toddlerdom as so many called it around town--the way his mothers cruel and protective eyes kept their hold, the fashion in which her hands kept their grasp on him in the public eye--made Roman a shadow.  
Whether that shadow be of a father that had barely the chance to be and never could, no one could be sure.  
His mother, afterall, was a mystery.  
As would be the little boy by her side

Roman huffed out his disinterest at them all, already a pointed little thing in his own mind.  
He climbed up between twisted metal bars, fittin his slender frame near the center of the dome's outer shell. Where he could look out across the small elementrary he'd been doomed for for at least another four years.  
He crossed his arms around the bars, holding himself in place as he exhaled in slow, the only smoke exiting him at this age a pale fog of heat meeting wintry chilled air. His expression didn't waver as he stared out across the playground, glazed were young eyes in the soladarity of his own company. It could be said that Roman minded. He minded quite a lot, seeing as his only family was his equally young cousin, Letha (who was currently on a vacation near the California coast), his sickly and all too tiny, sister Shelley (whom often he read his books to when Mother decided she was well enough for company), and of course--Mother dearest Olivia.

It could be said that Roman Godfrey was lonely.  
Could be.

"You're weird."  
  
Roman paused, little brow crinkling in thought.  
The voice was not of his own creation, nor his minds.

"Hey." There is was again, a soft voice, far away.  
  
Roman turned to look out about the playground, catching no eyes meeting his own as he cast them down.

A shoe fell from above him, hitting Roman on the head in light, just barely grazing him.

"Ow!" Roman rubbed his head in suprise, smoothing out his dark hair a bit as he shifted on the bars, looking up with squinted evergreen eyes to the bright pale sky before him.

A face stared down to him, a few levels above, just at the top-center of the dome.

A slightly tanned boy, tawny was his skin, hair a messy array of coppery brown waves pulled back in a little braid. The boy was dressed in a light, tattered hoodie, vest and shirt peeking out from beneath. He kicked his legs at Roman, smirking as he shifted, one foot pointing (shoe-less) toward the ground.

"Hey!" The tawny boy called out when Roman met his gaze. "Can you get my shoe? I dropped it." He tilted his head to see Roman better from behind bent metal bars across the way.

"Are you serious?" Roman clenched his little jaw, cheeks going a bit pink in tender irritation as he stared back up to this boy. Roman's eyes fell to the open dome-space between them, the snow settled at the bottom, and the prominent dark boot the boy before him held matching pair too.

"Quite!" The other boy barked, sliding down and across a level to meet Roman's sitting position directly opposite. "Mom'll kill me if I lose another one." He kicked his shoeless foot, a scraggly grey sock about a size or two too big adorning his equally small foot.

"Well your mom should tell you not to go kicking shoes at strangers, it's rude." Roman nodded to punctuate his point. "Get it yourself." Roman shifted a bit to pull his jacket hood on, snow falling a bit thick around them. "It can't be worth much anyway!" Roman called over. "Why not just buy a new one? That one looks all old anyway."  
  
  "I'm not some richie heir kid like you." The other boy retorted with an indignant snort, brushing back a stray curl of loose hair.  
"I just got them boots."  
  
  "I'm not-" Roman bit his tongue, a little hurt by the boys (ridiculously incoherant) comment. "Just 'cause you're dirt poor don't mean it's my fault." The little Godfrey heir untangled his feet from the jungle gym, sliding down the bars with careful steps and small huffs.  
  "Here." Roman picked up the shoe, pushing back his hood as he held it out--eyes hard and angry with a tiny fury flame in his jade hues. "Now go away."  
  
  "I'm Peter." The boy above him perked a brow, slipping from between the bars to jump down to the snowy center of the jungly gym dome, brushing off the snowflakes from his shoulders. "Thanks. But I ain't going anywhere. You may be rich but you don't own the jungle gym."  
  
  Roman furrowed his brow, shoving the shoe at the other boy.  
  
  "Peter's a stupid name." He stared at the boy with hard eyes for another moment.  
  
  Peter grinned wide and Roman perked a curious brow.   
  
  "So's Roman."  
  
  Roman didn't care too much to ask  _how_ the other boy knew his name; he was a Godfrey, after all.  
  
  "Don't you _read_?" Roman sighed dramatically. "Roman's were like, tough. There was a Roman empire, once. An _empire_." Roman crossed his arms and sniffled, rubbing his reddened nose.  
  
  "Yeah," Peter snickered, sticking his foot back into his boot. "Once. It _fell,_ 'member?"  
  
  Roman shook his head, trying not to growl out his frustration. So the kid read, so what? Roman was reading at three.  
  "You're stupid. Leave me alone." Roman met the boys eyes, skin almost luminescent in the whiteness of winter around them. "Or I'll make you."  
  
  "We're neighbors. Sort of." Peter continued, ignoring Roman's little threat with a shrug of his shoulders. "I see your house from mine. It's big."  
  
  "Yeah." Roman took a long breath, unimpressed.  "I have the biggest house in Hemlock."  
  
  "My mom say's your mom is weird." Peter cocked his head. "We should be friends."  
  
  "No." Roman crossed his arms a little tighter, leaning back. "Don't talk about my mom, you're mom's probably some poor Gyp' like you."  
  
  "Don't - call - me - that." Peter ground out in slow, not quite angry, more amused.  
  
  "Gyp'." Roman tossed his head back with a little huff. A first grader's equivelant of ' _screw you_ '. He braced himself, hands at his pockets now, expecting a scuffle. It wouldn't happen however, Roman learned. He had learned that if he told someone to do something, looked 'em in the eye, they would. Though he got nosebleeds from it, so Mother told him not to do it. Roman still did, though.   
  It made him feel like a Superhero.  
  
  Peter didn't move, his brow perked in small, a smile befalling him. His grin was like that of a puppies, a little wolf; amused and observant.  
  "We should be friends."   
  
  "Wh-What?" Roman stuttered, obviously confused.  
  
  "Friends. You know...like, sharing snacks and talkin' trash about the other kids to each other and stuff. Guy stuff. You could even come over sometime, hang in the hammock me and my mom put up. It's super cool, I made a fort outta' it once." Peter nodded, obviously in thought.  
  
  "I'm not sharing my snacks with you." Roman tried his hardest not to smile as he dropped his darkening eyes to the boy before him once more.   
  
  "My mom's gonna' flip." Peter smirked, holding out his hand.  
  
  Roman lifted his small hand in soft to Peter's, gingerly shaking it. "My mom, too." He smiled, shrugging.

 


End file.
